Days of Innocence
by Spirix
Summary: Innocence is something very hard to hold on to when War is knocking on your door. Jean is sent off to Ishbal at the ripe age of 15 and wonders about his choices...MustangHavoc... DAY 397, August 4 1906
1. June 30th 1905

**Dis****claimer:** I don't own FMA... or these pants.

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**DAY 1, June 30st 1905**

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Dear Diary,

Normally I don't do this kind of thing, but… I'm not sure why I grabbed this book at the pit stop. Maybe it's the sense of something bad about to happen. I mean, why else would I be here?

I guess this is the part where I tell you who I am and all that crap. My name is Jean and I turn fifteen in twenty minutes. Maybe that's why I bought this damn book, to have a gift or something. Is it sad to buy yourself a gift? Yep, pretty much, but to me it sounded like a good idea. Better than the big fat nothing I would get otherwise. It's not that my family is neglecting me, it's just… well whatever they sent would never get here. In fact, here isn't even a place.

I know that one sounds weird but it ain't. Right now I'm sitting in the back of a military truck, on my way to hell. That's right, hell. You see, there is a war going on here in Amestris. I'd tell you how it started but I have the feeling the version I know is just a lie, so why bother even acknowledging it? I find it hard to believe a soldier like me shot a child. Oh, I forgot that part. I am indeed a soldier, or at least I will be soon enough.

I was a student at the Pre-Military Academy when this war first started. I was only ten, but that was old enough to know everything was changing. Most of my friend's parents pulled them out, but not mine. My Pa, he said it would be cowardly to run when my country needed me, so I stayed. I graduated and went on to the real Academy, not sure if I hated him or respected him every step of the way. I was a kid then, doing what Pa said was right, but does that excuse me now?

I'm not an idiot. This truck of my classmates isn't just another field trip. We are going to war.

I still can't get over that. This war was supposed to be over before I graduated, but now, it's pulling me away from school before I'm even done. Like I said earlier, I'm fifteen. The law clearly states the conscription age is eighteen and over. Don't worry though, only two of us are too young and therefore were stupid enough to volunteer. I never was a smart one. I'm here, in this smelly, sandy truck by choice. I am going to the encampment by choice. Does that mean, when I'm forced to kill, it too will be by choice?

I don't really want to think about that right now. It will be all I have to think about soon enough. I'd rather talk about that other cadet like me, the 'too young' one. I met her for the first time yesterday in the west meeting room of school. Her name is Hawkeye. She doesn't talk much, but that's fine by me. I wonder why she volunteered… probably being stupid like me.

Everyone else here are upperclassmen, old enough to fight but still without a rank. We are just a pile of Officer Cadets. That's right; I'm Officer Cadet Havoc, going off to war on his birthday and look at that, I've been fifteen for three minutes.

Happy Birthday Jean…

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**A/N:** For the version with Jean's doodles and sketches, you'll have to go to my LJ account. Link is in my profile. ;)

-rix

**A/A/N:** My scanner broke so this fic will now be without pictures. I'm sorry.


	2. July 1st 1905

**Dis****claimer:** I don't own FMA... or these pants.

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**DAY 2, July 1st 1905**

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Dear Diary,

Hey there. I'm all squared away now. My kit is in my locker and I have a cot of my very own. I am now officially living in the desert…how fun. I wouldn't have guessed it myself, you know, with all the sand and lack of vegetation. No, I found out I was living in a life-size sandbox at the orientation. They showed me how to check my boots for scorpions in the morning and how to shave with axle grease!

As _fun _as that all sounds I'm not too keen on my roommate, tentmate would be more accurate I suppose. His name is Breda and he's kind of standoffish. I don't know what his deal is, I think it's because I'm a kid. Well sorry! Not all of us can control our births. I don't know how someone his size even made it into the military. I know all the physical training I had to do just to be accepted into the academy... maybe they let you slack off after graduation. Somehow I doubt that.

So far I've met a lot of interesting people besides Breda. I won't bore you with names of everyone because I would be here all day. There is this one that kind of stands out even though I don't even know who he is. I was at the mess tent and I saw him eating alone. I don't know why, but that didn't sit well with me, so I went to join him. Breda stopped me and dragged me over to his table. I don't get it and no one explained it. I didn't even get a good chance to see the guy proper.

Why am I even telling you about this? This is stupid, I'm going to bed.

One thing before I go, he's the only person I've ever seen with hair so black it was almost blue.

Night!

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**A/N:** It's been awhile. I give up on the scanner and will just post these as I see fit. Enjoy while I go back to snickering because I got a call from "Central Com..." today. Does that mean Hawkeye knows where I live? That would be fine by me.

-rix


	3. July 2nd 1905

**Dis****claimer:** I don't own FMA... or these pants. Well actually I MADE these pants. Fuck yeah!

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**DAY 3, July 2nd 1905**

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Dear Diary,

I feel so stupid writing that each time. I know it's only been twice now, but 'dear diary' makes me sound like some twinkling tweenie... WHICH I AM NOT! I have four chest hairs now! FOUR! That makes me practically an old man. Old Man Mountain would come to ME for a spare razor blade. That's right.

But that doesn't make sense. What _makes _him Old Man Mountain is the mountain of hair on his face and head... So if his hair was that disgustingly long, he wouldn't need a razor for it. Then what would he need the razor for..? Well he wouldn't slit his wrists so it must be to shave something else. Oh god! I refuse to loan him anything that are touching _those_! What man would ever shave his balls? My imagination!

Topic change, topic change!

So anyways, I decided you need a name, diary of mine. What should I call you...wait that's it! Dom shall be your name. So to start this off properly:

Dear Dom,

I feel like an idiot. Yeah, I know I usually am, but today I feel like one more. I was really curious about that blue/black guy everyone treated like he had the plague, so I followed him around. Not the best plan, but I have too much free time and no one breathing down my neck. Not a good combination for a soldier boy-MAN like me.

Anywho, after sundown I saw him walking towards the edge of camp, so I thought up my brilliant stalker plan and ninja'ed after him. He was like a ghost, floating through the camp, all sullen and mysterious. He finally noticed me after what felt like forever. I feel strange saying this, but he took my breath away, honesty.

What the fuck is that?

So what if his blue/black hair is only comparable to his matching eyes that are all slanty and stuff. I, as a man of four chest hairs, should not care. But I do. He didn't say anything as I babbled like an idiot about how I was new and it was dark and that he looked lost too.

He merely quirked an eyebrow at me and smirked.

Once again, why do I care? Why the hell did I feel like I melted into a pile of pudding when he spoke for the first time? He only said that it would be hard to be lost, considering how long he had stayed there. I was instantly curious but felt too tongue tied to ask for how long.

The only decent normal human sounding thing I managed to say was my name.

He said he was just another dog and it wasn't good to get mixed with him. I say why not? We are all dogs anyways. Tomorrow I am going to ambush him at breakfast and not let him leave until I get a real name! I am a man on a mission. If my pa ever found out the extent I was going through to get a 'guy's' name he would probably disown me, or beat me with a sock filled with soap. I wonder what would be worse. Soap hurts. A lot.

I'm leaving with what's left of my sanity.

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**A/N:** It's been a while, again. I honestly forget about this fic until I see my havocmustang doujins and get the urge to read them. So, my die-hard fans, if a few years go by without an update, feel free to PM me. If I get a PM tomorrow telling me I forgot this fic, there will be missing family pets and slaughtered stuffied animals to deal with. You have been warned.

On a less menacing note, this was fun. I love Jean Havoc.

-rix


	4. July 3rd 1905, 1200hrs

**Dis****claimer:** I don't own FMA... or these pants. Well actually I MADE these pants. Fuck yeah!

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**DAY 4, July 3rd 1905, 1200hrs**

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Dear Dom,

I think I need help.

I had my 'muffin mayhem' attack plan (yes I named the breakfast ambush mission!) but it fell through at apex moment of unveiling. What if my ghost guy doesn't show up?

Wait he's not MY ghost, guy, person... ALCHEMIST! He's just a perso-Alchemist! Not mine, no. That's wrong.

Back to the mission, he never showed up in the mess. What am I supposed to do now? I saved him a muffin... From Breda even. I deserve a medal for that.

Well there is still dinner this evening so maybe I can hook up with him then. And by hook up I mean give him my muffin... and by that I mean... Fuck I don't even know what I mean anymore. Bottom line, he WILL eat this goddamned muffin and like it. That's it. Once this delicious piece of desert rarity sits in his gut, he will be so pleased I'll finally get a name. Calling him my ghost sounds queer, which I am NOT!

I only just think about him every time my squad leader lets us have a break, and sometimes when he doesn't. I think he's going to shoot me soon if he catches me in a daze one more time.

Like I said before, I need help and I don't even know what kind.

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**A/N:** Yay for Jean being such an awesome kid. No wonder he picks up smoking.

-rix


	5. July 3rd 1905, 2345hrs

**Dis****claimer:** I don't own FMA... or these pants. Well actually I MADE these pants. Fuck yeah!

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**DAY 4, July 3rd 1905, ****2345hrs**

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Dom?

Today I was reminded of why I'm really here. This isn't school where you can just go make friends and chat about sports. This is war and I'm ashamed I forgot. It is a shame I can smell through the tent material in the form of burning flesh.

Breda is crying on his cot and his friend is being cremated along with twelve others not too far from where we sleep. A squad doing training exercises just to the west of camp was ambushed and kill brutally with sticks and stones. I guess they really can break your bones, and our spirits. The messy attack by those rebels has left everyone looking much like my ghost, all floating aimlessly and tormented looking. Well not everyone. Some are fighting with each other like I used to when I was a kid. Some are taking to making speeches about flaws in the government.

I think they are all just being stupid. They lost friends and I thought that's what war was about. We fight, we win, we lose, we strive, we push, we choose...

I saw _him_ again. He is overseeing the burnings. It was just like those wizards in my sister's books. He stood with his cloak all blowing in the wind, stoic and unmovable. I was waiting for some big elaborate spell or something but there was none. The first time I saw alchemy and it was a snap of his fingers. Next thing I knew the pyre was a tower of flames.

I wonder... could he snap his fingers and make the war stop as well? Alchemists can do anything can't they? I guess if that were true, we would already all be home.

Tomorrow I am going to be on the retaliation force so I don't know when we'll talk next. It's time I stopped being a boy and started being a soldier. With all the blood coming, I doubt I'll have much of a chance to be a man.

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**A/N:** The story turns to angst, like everything else I touch. I am officially a member of the military now, but I'll tell you about it in a more popular fic's a/n so people actually read it.

-rix


	6. August 3rd 1905

**Dis****claimer:** I don't own FMA... or these pants. Well actually I MADE these pants. Fuck yeah!

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**DAY 34, August 3rd 1905**

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Hello Dom,

I'm not very good at keeping in touch. If you were my girl, you would have left me by now for some inbred town hic who was too damaged to be conscripted. And you know what; I would not only forgive you, but think of you as being the smarter of the two of us. It ain't wise to be tied down to soldier like me.

As I said before, I am not a man and after what I've seen I don't think I ever will be. I gave up that right as soon as I started killing men for no other reason than that had on the other team's outfit. Imagine that? I am murdering over shirts and shoes. It's not like I don't got some of those myself.

Tomorrow is a holiday. I don't know for what or why, only that I have a whole twenty-four hours to clean the blood stains out of... well everything and maybe relax. Get back in touch with my inner self or some other fucking mental stability exercise they taught us. I think I'd rather just have a smoke.

That's right, I started smoking. You seem Dom, they way the war works is that they deny you everything that makes you human.

For example: the right to say, "No sir, I don't want to shoot someone," or "Please sir, I would like to go home today."

These simple concepts that in our normal existence would be easily resolved are now ignored in favour of orders and duty. Is it my 'duty' to kill children younger than me? YOUNGER, as in that I am an adult compared to these 'fighters' who don't even reach my shoulder.

Anyways, back to my point. Since they make us be things less than human, the people running this war make sure we have things to keep us happy. Smutty magazines find their way into the camp through the mail. There is always someone you can get a drink or smoke off of and local girls come around once in a while to 'do our laundry for some money' but I know what they are really getting paid for. Doesn't it seem odd to anyone else that civilians can just walk into camp and start offering 'services'?

I just read this over and wow, Breda is really rubbing off on me. He said I sounded like an ignorant bubba, whatever that means, and that I should learn how to talk—speak my own language. Since him and I end up spending every moment of this war together, I guess he's finally rubbing off on me. It's something... which is more than most have to occupy themselves I suppose...

The only comfort I really get these days is from the large fires I see on the horizon. People in the camp ignore them as if hell itself was opening up to swallow them, but I don't see them that way. Everyday a mass fire appears in the distance, I know he's alive.

Should I really find that comforting? I really don't care anymore. All I know is that in this deep and dark place, his light always reaches me.

Goodnight Dom, I won't neglect you anymore.

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**A/N:** I started watching MASH again. I must have seen every episode of it but I never get bored watching it. One of my career offers is to be a health administrator officer. There are many different facets of that classification, but one would be the organizing of MASH outfits. I think that would be rather interesting.

Poor Jean is growing up but not in the way most teens do. At least he's finding a sense of calm in his ghost, his Dom and his smokes.

-rix


	7. December 27th 1905

**Dis****claimer:** I don't own FMA... or these pants. Well actually I MADE these pants. Fuck yeah!

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**DAY 177, December 27th 1905**

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Dear Dom,

Christmas passed only a few days ago and I didn't even notice. The only thing even remotely festive about my life now is the red blood stains on my green camouflage pants. I did get a gift though. The gift of courage I guess…

Sorry, that was lame.

What I mean to say was, I went to him last night.

It was cold and the wind was howling and I couldn't stand sitting alone in my tent a moment longer. Equipped with only my pyjamas, a blanket and a flickering moment of bravery, I snuck across the camp.

We hadn't talked for months, not even seen each other but being the idiot that I am, I just walked into his tent like it was my own. Being an officer and all he didn't have a tent-mate like me. I stood there in the middle stupidly for what felt like forever until he started talking in his sleep. It was a strange language I had never heard before but it sounded beautiful.

Being the stalker that I am, or have become I guess, I sat on the tarp by his bedside and just listened to the soft words he spoke. Each one lulled me closer and closer to sleep until I found myself sitting up abruptly. My head had decided to rest on his knee until he thrashed. Obviously some time had gone by because he looked to be in the middle of a nightmare.

I panicked like an idiot and tried to stand quickly to make my escape. Instead my knees collided with the cot frame and nearly flipped it over, man, blankets and all. I caught the edge and shoved it down but that only made my problem worse. The frame snapped, I ended up on my ass and _he _woke up mid roll into my lap. Still kind of half asleep, he wildly flailed his arms and legs but then stopped suddenly. The light from outside shined on us both when the tent flap I forgot to tie flapped in the wind so I guess he saw my face.

His next expression I didn't catch because he buried his face into my regulation t-shirt and sobbed.

Dom, don't laugh. This is not a strange event, in times of war. We all have our moments and some have so many they can't handle it anymore. I've seen guys crack and kill their buddies and even themselves. It ain't pretty but nothing about war is. The only pretty thing in the whole damn thing was making my shirt damp. He didn't belong.

None of us really did.

We never said a word to one another until he cried himself dry. I watched him crawl out of my arms and into his pile of blankets. I took it as a dismissal but he called me back with a simple, "Please."

In my expert opinion, please is the most awesome word in the world.

Fuck I'm tired. I'm going to go to bed but I wanted to say a few things before I go to sleep.

One is that I spent the night with him and I still don't even know his name.

Two is that I don't think I want too. What if knowing his name ruins everything? 'My ghost' will be just another man. Labels are hard here. Like he's not my friend but I don't know what he is to me. My ghost is just that, a ghost.

Three is that I don't care, I just want to see him again.

I'm going back to his tent now for the second time. I can tell he'll never come to me but that's okay. I'll just follow him.

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**A/N:**

I keep having this dream that feels so real that when I wake-up I can still feel it. I won't go into detail since I'm going to see if I can make a oneshot out of it, but basically I meet my soulmate from a past life and she tries to convince me that we were together once upon a time. It's gotten to the point where I look for her when I'm out, expecting to see her everywhere.

I think I'm lonely.

-rix


	8. June 7th 1906

**Dis****claimer:** I don't own FMA... or these pants. Well actually I MADE these pants. Fuck yeah!

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**DAY 339, June 7th 1906**

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Dear Dom,

I am a fucking idiot. Too ashamed to even tell you what's been going on I've be hiding from everything that matters.

When I went back that second night, my ghost wasn't alone. There was that other alchemist I always see in the field, exploding things. But this was a different way of seeing him. It was like I was looking into another world that I didn't even know existed.

The exploding alchemist kissed my ghost. And my ghost kissed back.

Shocked I just sat in the sand and watched like a pervert, like a fool, like a child. Like my heart was breaking or something.

Which don't make sense. How could it for something like that? I should have been shocked and disgusted, but I wasn't. It hurt deep down in a place I didn't know I had.

I watched them like I was thirsty and they was the only water to be had. I am still disgusted with my peeping Tom ways. I just never knew two men could do the things they did and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't look away.

My ghost cried the first night and it took me this long to admit I cried the second.

I didn't cry for the exploding alchemist stealing what I had some what claimed as mine. I didn't cry for my ghost finding comfort in someone else. I cried like a child for my body reacting and me having to take care of it. I had never been so tormented while pleasuring myself in my life.

I kept thinking how wrong it was.

How men should keep to women and not to each other.

How I shouldn't want to be in there with them.

It didn't soften me though. Nothing did. I came on the side of the tent and ran like a little kid. I cried like a kid too.

It was all too much at once and I wanted none of it. That was until there was none to be had any longer. My ghost and his exploding man left last week to be sent to the very front. It's funny because I thought this was the front. I don't envy where they are going but I would give anything to go with them.

I'm such an idiot for not realizing it until they were gone. I spent months perfecting my riflemen ship just to distract myself from the desires awakening inside me like fire. They burned hot and I did all I could to put them out. My ghost makes fire do incredible things so it's only right the fire he makes in me should be different from normal fire too.

I've requested to go to the front. I can't let him go out there alone. I swore I would follow him and now I have more of a reason to than ever. I don't know what this feeling inside of me is, nor what to do with it. I only know I need to keep him safe for my own sanity.

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**A/N:**

Four updates in one night. I'm tired and going to bed. It's good to be back everyone and thank you for all the love. I read all your reviews and they gave me small rays of light during dark times.

-rix the demon


	9. July 1906

**Dis****claimer:** I don't own FMA... or these pants. Well actually I MADE these pants. Fuck yeah!

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**DAY UNKNOWN, July 1906**

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Dear Dom,

This may sound crazy but I haven't seen in the sun in what's felt like weeks. The ash is too thick to see anything else but the thick clouds of it. One of the guys and my platoon looked at me today and asked if I remembered what sound birds made. I couldn't answer him. All I know now is the echoing roar of the constant explosion occurring around us.

And the cry of the victims far below my sniper post.

There aren't very many of us, but even less of the alchemists. There is the strong one, the doctor, the silver one, the exploding man and my ghost. I'm sure there are others but these four were left in my charge. I won't let them fall to the enemy but it's not the enemy I'm afraid of. The problem is within our own ranks.

I am the best from my platoon and can only be outshot by one person, someone they call the hawk. I have never met them but we work together every day. Because of our prowess, we accompany the alchemist unit. Hawk and I have a currier between us to pass small written messages so that we can better co-ordinate our attacks. He is a young boy oddly named Fuery, it odd because he's a shrimp.

I probably shouldn't be writing these things down... but it's too late now. Just don't get lost Dom. I would miss you.

Back to my fears before this gets too sappy and out there.

My ghost is lost. Plain and simple. I can see him drifting farther are farther away from us all. He must really be like a ghost. I mean he's solid and not floating but he's not all there in the head. Sometimes I don't think he sees anything we see. And his exploding man isn't stepping up to bring him back, keep him grounded. The bastard is encouraging it. The exploding man is thriving in all the chaos.

I must stop this. How am I supposed to follow someone who is not there?

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**A/N:**

Hello again. I'm just in a RoyJean mood. Anyone know any good fic besides raja815's? I love theirs but I've read them all and looking for something new.

-rix the demon


	10. July 1906 Again

**Dis****claimer:** I don't own FMA... or these pants. Well actually I MADE these pants. Fuck yeah!

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**DAY UNKNOWN, July 1906**

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Dear Dom,

It is still July but it feels like an eternity has passed. The quiet sun blazes beyond the smoke and I am no more closer to protecting my ghost than I was at the camp. My snipering skills are improving and somewhere deep down the found a leader in me and pulled him out. I have men to order about and tasks to fulfill. It just occurred to me that I am an officer, a real officer. I get saluted and everything.

How weird. I haven't done anything worth saluting but they do it daily just the same.

My ghost is fading. I see it daily and can do nothing to stop it but curse the exploding man. It is his fault. A real man would look after his lover. Maybe alchemists aren't really men. They do things that you only hear about in books about magic, hell, they look down right godly as they smite the Ishbalians. That's really what this has become though, a fight of gods.

The Ishbalians are trying to protect their god and we take no heed as we bash in city after city. They take down a lot of our men in the process but this is still an extermination. Cockroaches can only regroup and fight off so many times.

My rifle keeps the blood from staining my soul. I feel somewhat pure since I can do so much from a distance. Only I choose if I see the face of those who fall into my sight. My ghost is not so lucky. Where before he drifted from tent to tent, glowing silvery blue in the moonlight, now he is a dull brown; the colour of caked blood.

I went to him yesterday. It was simple really. I intercepted him mail so I could bring it to him… How much of a coward am I?

That doesn't matter. What does is that I found him sitting alone in his tent, head on his knees and staring at something that is not there. I announced my presence, brandished his mail, came into the tent, and hell I even sat on his cot without him taking notice. I sat there for a long time listening to him mutter softly to himself in a strange language I didn't understand. It sounded like what I heard people say Xingian sounded like but I had never heard it before so I wasn't sure.

At one point he reached out his hand to the side, like deep down he knew I was there. Without thinking I took it. His hand was soft and slender in a way I never thought a man's hand could be but it was still strong. Hell he nearly broke my when he gripped it. I think I surprised him when I gripped him back. It was only fair after all.

His head turned and the glossy fog from his eyes faded to reveal dark blue irises. It was like looking into the midnight sky and falling all at once. Then as quickly as it had came, the clarity left. My ghost laid on his side and closed his eyes and once again I found myself crooning him to sleep.

What do you call it when you find someone more precious to you than life itself? I'm not sure what disturbs me more, that revelation or what it means…

I think I am in love with a ghost who cannot see me.

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**A/N:**

Wow so Free Fall went up last night and I am so nervous. It has been ages since I posted it and I fear everyone has lost interest. Hell I lost interest for a while. Damn long story.

Once again, I take love in doses of sharing other RoyJean fics. I read Crucible as suggested and loved it. I added it to my collection on my computer since it is on LJ.

Well off to write something else.

-rix the demon


	11. August 4th 1906

**Dis****claimer:** I don't own FMA... or these pants. Well actually I MADE these pants. Fuck yeah!

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**DAY 397, August 4 1906**

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Dear Dom,

Something both horrible and incredible has happened. The exploding alchemist is gone and my ghost got rid of him.

It was crazy to watch the assortment of explosion and flames but my ghost emerged from smoke the victor. Kimblee, as I have learned his name is, went against orders and starting killing his own men and superiors. He plunged into the Ishballians cities and slaughtered not only the resistance but the civilians and even some of our men.

No one could stop him… except for my ghost.

Steel willed and with a heart of pure ice he strode into carnage and smoke unafraid. I tried to follow but I'm no alchemist and they had quarantined off their battle. I only know it was my ghost who walked away without chains.

Imagine my surprise when he walked directly to me. He didn't say anything nor did he look at me. He just put a hand on my shoulder and gripped it softly once before floating past to do whatever it is a hero did next. That's what he is for everyone else you know, a hero. He saved this whole encampment from Kimblee's wrath but to me he is still my ghost, waiting to be resurrected.

Later that night I found myself strolling along the camp fringe and I found exactly what I'd thought I would find, my ghost.

Tormented and alone, ha watch the amber dawn without solace. I never thought of myself as a brave man. I've never done anything terribly courageous, at least never something another man wouldn't do in my situation. But then, how many men find themselves in situations like this?

Summoning courage I didn't know I had, I sat next to him and put his head on my shoulder. What happened next blew my mind away… I'm not one to kiss and tell but loosing my virginity is another matter. It was so hot, so sweet and so incredible I don't even know how to write it.

Strange part is, I've heard the guys talk about local girls and I thought hard about the difference afterwords, while he was asleep in my arms. All the same pleasurable feelings were there but it was just so much more for me. Maybe I just need to get used to sex (god it's weird to write it) and the novelty will wear off in time.

Or it was because of the person he shared that piece of heaven with. Because that what it was, absolute bliss. Still is. It's the day after and he's still sleeping, using my thigh as a pillow. I guess I wore him out? I'm starting to wonder if he's ever going to wake up but I figure it was a rough day all around and he deserves what little rest he can find.

I'm going to join him now; I just wanted to tell someone before I wake up to this all being a dream. I should dream more often.

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**A/N:**

This story is becoming a lot deeper than I intended. I feel like I'm really connecting to Havoc... Maybe it's time for another Jeanx_____ fic? Any requests? I am in the mood for a oneshot to get me in the groove for Free Fall again.

-rix the demon


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